


A Present (from the past) to Remember

by Emrys MK (mk_malfoy)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Party, Christmas Presents, Explicit Language, Fluffy Ending, Gwaine Being Gwaine, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Merlin/Mordred (Merlin) - Freeform, Personal Assistant Merlin, Sad Merlin, Winter Knights 2017, sad Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-02-05 06:59:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12789279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mk_malfoy/pseuds/Emrys%20MK
Summary: Merlin has searched high and low to find the perfect Christmas present for his boyfriend, but perhaps someone else will appreciate it more.





	A Present (from the past) to Remember

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer** : Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> A huge thank you to my beta, who will be thanked properly in January.
> 
>  **Prompt:** _Merlin accidentally gives Arthur his boyfriend’s present and Arthur is so delighted (because people in the office or whatever don't like him and he has a rep of being a bit of a grump). Merlin does not have the heart to tell him it was a mistake especially when he sees this whole other side to Arthur - would love it to end with them getting together. Submitted by lfb72_
> 
> Thank you so much, LFB, for this prompt. When I first saw it I KNEW I had to write it!

“So what did you get Mordred?” Gwaine asked as he retrieved the last of the presents from Merlin’s boot. “Mithian said you scoured the internet looking for it.”

“You’ll see tomorrow when we exchange gifts at Freya’s,” was all the response Merlin gave as he reached into the backseat, pulled out the case of Champagne, and set it on the ground before diving back into the car.

“Whoa, what did you do? Burgle a posh person’s cellar?” asked Gwaine, clearly not accustomed to having _the good stuff_ at the parties he frequented, which surprised Merlin. Most everyone in Camelot seemed fairly well off, so he assumed they’d all have bought the good stuff, unlike himself, who had never bought anything expensive in his life… that is until the day before when he had finally made a difficult decision and bought his boyfriend the perfect present.

“Ha ha, very funny,” he deadpanned as he appeared again with the _infamous rucksack called Kilgharrah that_ he carried everywhere he went. His co-workers constantly teased him for it, saying he looked more like a student than a personal assistant, to which Merlin merely grinned. Yes, a briefcase would probably look more professional and dignified, but using a rucksack freed his hands—it was all down to practicality, really. Merlin couldn’t help it if his co-workers hadn’t cottoned on to that fact yet.

He unzipped it and checked to make sure he’d put in his boss’s gift. Seeing it, alongside that of Mordred’s, he sighed, relieved; he hadn’t fancied a trip home to get it.

“For your information, Gwaine, Morgana asked me to pick up her order for the party.” Merlin looked up as soon as he said this, knowing his words would elicit a response as Morgana was somewhat of a sore subject with Gwaine at the moment.

“Oh, did she now?” Gwaine harrumphed. “You do know that she has a reputation around here of being a hard arse, yes? You keep this up and we’re going to have to seriously reconsider your membership into the knighthood,” Gwaine said, trying but failing to sound serious.

“Yes, she did,” Merlin said sardonically as he donned the rucksack and pulled out the building’s entrance card from his back pocket before picking up the case of Champagne and making his way towards the back entry. “She seems okay to me, more approachable than her father or brother at any rate. Maybe you just need to learn to play nice,” was his cheeky reply.

Merlin enjoyed few things more than goading Gwaine; the pair of them were two peas in a pod, and when their officemates, known unofficially as the Knights of the Round Table, got a few drinks into them, watch out world. Gwerlin, as a few of the young female interns had taken to calling them, could always be counted on to be the life of the party. Gwaine was a fun-loving drunk, and Merlin was an emotional lush. It was a match made in workplace heaven.

It was a far cry from the life Merlin had left when he moved to the bustling metropolis of Camelot from the small farming village of Ealdor, where everyone knew their neighbors and watched out for one another. And where his best friend, Will, lived. 

Merlin missed Will terribly, but he was finally beginning to feel as though he fit in here in Camelot. He was still unsure if he wanted to stay or return home; he would cross that bridge later, but at least he no longer felt completely alone.

“What’s the fun in that,” Gwaine said as he flipped his hair to get it out of his eyes. “Besides, I tried playing nice with Morgana. She wasn’t interested in having anything to do with me. Her brother, however, seems quite interested in having something to do with you if the looks he's been giving you is any indication.” Gwaine winked as he looked at his watch.

Merlin chose to ignore that last comment as he chuckled. There was no being serious with Gwaine—that was one of the first things he had learned upon beginning his new job as Arthur Pendragon’s personal assistant a month earlier—but in a world where Merlin’s days were spent dealing with the serious and mundane, he very much appreciated the likes of Gwaine, who saw the world as a huge playground.

“Aw, did poor wittle Gwaine get turned down by our boss’s daughter? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought she was decidedly not interested in anything remotely masculine. Then again, you do have pretty hair, so that has to count for something.” Merlin hurried ahead, a sly grin on his face, but when he looked over his shoulder, he was pleased to see Gwaine laughing.

It had taken Merlin a few days to get Gwaine’s sense of humour and accept that he was rarely serious, but once he had, the two became fast friends. The only person Merlin spent more time with outside of work was his boyfriend, Mordred, who worked for Merlin’s boss’s father, the CEO of Pendragon, De Bois, and Associates.

Mordred was the antithesis of Gwaine in every way. Where Gwaine was naturally boisterous and wanted to be the center of attention at all times, Mordred was reserved and an introvert. It was a wonder he had plucked up the courage to ask Merlin out, but he had, and they’d been together since.

“Oy, I am NOT little,” Gwaine replied somewhat indignantly, “and I’ll have you know I can do feminine better than most femme fatales can, but, unfortunately, in this one instance, you’re right,” he added sulkily, with a tinge of what might pass for regret if it wasn’t coming out of Gwaine’s mouth. “I have a cock, and she couldn’t care less. Her loss.” Gwaine plucked the card from Merlin’s full hands and inserted it into the door. “Probably for the best. Fucking the CEO’s daughter’s probably not the best idea.”

Merlin agreed. Uther Pendragon was downright scary. Merlin hadn’t had the displeasure of being around him much, but if the man treated his employees anything like he treated his son, Merlin would be happy to never have to be in his presence more than necessary.

“I heard Elena was on the pull last night; you should ask her out.” Merlin followed Gwaine into the building and set the box down in the kitchen before taking the bag of presents and placing it on the bar and rifling through it. “I overheard Gwen and Elena talking the other day. She’s mad for you, mate, so you need to strike while you can. She isn’t going to stay single forever.” Merlin retrieved the two presents out of his rucksack and took out a Sharpie before sitting down at the table.

“Yeah, I might do that,” Gwaine said as he walked towards the door. “See you at the party.”

**Nine Hours Later**

The last thing Merlin felt like doing was smiling and sitting around with his co-workers for the next three hours, but as he had little choice, he took two flutes of champagne and resigned himself to hell. He sidled up to Gwaine, who was chatting up Elena, and handed them the glasses. He winked at Gwaine then went and got himself a flute, vowing to return for several more before the night was over.

He settled onto the sofa nearest the windows and watched his co-workers mingling. Mithian looked as if she’d been told the funniest joke in the world, Percival and Leon were snogging beneath a twig of mistletoe, Gwen and Lance were cozying up in the corner and would probably leave before the gift exchange, and Morgana was holding court on the other side of the room with her minions as she always did when she had a captive audience.

He sighed. Earlier in the day he’d been looking forward to spending the evening with Mordred, but Mordred’s dick of a boss had decided it was more important for Mordred to finish a project that was due the following day. It was odd—Merlin would have bet all the money he had (which, admittedly, wasn’t much) that Uther Pendragon would never pass up an opportunity to lord over his employees, even at the Christmas party—but Merlin did understand that money and time were more important than schmoozing with one’s employees.

Christmas Spirit abounded. Merlin rolled his eyes as he watched Gwaine and Elena. They really did make a cute couple. Merlin downed the champagne and went for a second when his eyes were drawn to the door, where his boss, Arthur, was talking to his uncle, Agravaine, who was the President. Neither of them looked happy, but when had either of them ever smiled? Merlin wasn’t sure they had it in them to do so.

Merlin had yet to fathom out his boss. Arthur wasn’t a horrible person like his father, but he certainly had a long way to go before he would be asked to join the _Round Table_. Merlin grinned at the thought.

As far as bosses went, Merlin thought Arthur a just and fair man. As long as Merlin did his work and didn’t complain (too much), he was left to his own devices. The two got on well enough most of the time. And of course it didn't hurt that Arthur Pendragon was gorgeous to look at.

They mightn't talk much, but his boss certainly let all the dirty talk fly in Merlin’s dreams.

There was one thing about the man that truly irked Merlin, however, and that was the fact that the two spoke only when Arthur needed something. It was disconcerting to Merlin, who missed the days of working in Ealdor, where he and his boss, Gaius, had talked throughout the day. To be fair, though, that had been in a bookstore, where the work hadn’t been tedious and the stakes not nearly as high. Still, that environment had fostered positive vibes. This one didn’t, and it was a daily challenge for Merlin to keep his spirits up. Thank goodness for Mordred and Gwaine.

When Agravaine left the room several minutes later, leaving Arthur standing alone, Merlin didn’t miss the look of resignation on his boss’s face. He looked miserable. Merlin understood. He felt the same and wondered if there was someone Arthur was missing, but he doubted it. Who in their right mind would want to spend any amount of time with Arthur Pendragon? He was alright enough as a boss, Merlin guessed, but he wasn’t exactly exuding vibes that said _approach me and let’s have a nice, casual conversation_.

“Time to exchange gifts!” one of the young girls from IT squealed as she clanged a spoon against one of the flutes. “Mr Pendragon has been detained but he asked his daughter to be Father Christmas… erm, or Mother Christmas,” she amended with a blush as Morgana made her way to the front of the room, smiling as if she’d just been crowned Miss Universe.

Merlin did his best to tune his boss’s daughter out until he heard his name called. He dutifully walked up to the front and retrieved his gift, wondering why offices across the world did this to their employees. Families, he could understand, but why put co-workers through such torture?

Of course, had Morded been there, Merlin would have been more than happy for the evening’s frivolities and would have enjoyed every moment of it. He generally loved the holidays, especially when he had someone special to spend it with, and he would have been more than happy to know that the after party with his boyfriend would prove to be even merrier.

He returned to his perch next to the window and began opening his present, but he stopped when out of the corner of his eye he saw his boss holding a chain that looked familiar. Too familiar.

His own gift was immediately abandoned and forgotten as Merlin's mouth opened.

If anyone was looking at him, they would surely see every ounce of colour draining from his face.

No.

He made a beeline for his office, his breathing erratic. Thankfully, it was only two corridors away. Once inside he closed the door, ran to his drawer, and pulled it open, hoping, praying, pleading for Mordred’s gift to be inside, but he already knew it wasn’t.

He ripped open the paper of the gift within and let out a whimper when he realised that it was a bundle of gift cards… the gift he had bought for Arthur, which meant…

Arthur was now the recipient of a very expensive medallion that had symbols on it that reminded Merlin of Mordred.

“Bugger.” It had taken more than a paycheck to save up enough to get it.

A coldness suffused Merlin. It was one of those moments that took him back to childhood and made him think of all those times he’d been laughed at and talked about behind his back, others calling him an idiot for doing something funny.

What was he to do? He could go to Arthur and explain what happened—he was almost certain that his boss would understand. But… how embarrassing.

Merlin put his face in his hands and wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. He’d always been clumsy, and he never seemed to think things through, but he had never done anything this idiotic in his life.

Those kids at school had been correct. He didn’t like to admit it, but he was forever proving them right, wasn’t he?

Nothing else for it, Merlin decided he’d go to Arthur and explain what he’d done; he would never be allowed to live it down, of course—he knew that—but he hadn’t a choice. There was no way in Hades that he was giving Mordred gift cards.

Re-entering the staff room, he steeled himself and made his way over to Arthur, who was studying the medallion raptly and reverently. Merlin couldn’t imagine why he seemed so interested in it. It was just some old medallion that only people like Mordred, who were studying ancient runes, would appreciate.

“Hey, Merls, look what Elena gave me,” said Gwaine, showing off a pair of cufflinks that looked like they’d cost a pretty penny. Merlin admired them and smiled disinterestedly, but he didn’t stop. He really did need to get to Arthur, but just as he made his way over to him, Uther Pendragon entered the room, looking worse for wear, and Arthur went to see him.

Merlin stared dejectedly as Arthur walked up to his father, but then he watched with interest as Arthur showed his father the medallion. Merlin didn’t understand, but what he did see was that when Arthur looked up and his eyes happened to meet those of Merlin, he grinned, and it was the first time Merlin remembered ever seeing Arthur do so. It was a good look on him.

And that was how Merlin lost Mordred his medallion.

He’d just have to think of something else to give his boyfriend.

As if Mordred knew Merlin was thinking about him, he entered the room and made his way to Merlin and pressed a kiss to the corner of his boyfriend’s mouth. He was a sight for sore eyes, even if he did look tired and a bit rough. Merlin went in for another kiss, but Mordred stepped back. Merlin frowned. That was odd. Mordred was even more affectionate than him, so why was he now pulling back. And what was that smell?

Mordred didn’t wear cologne because of severe allergies, but he currently reeked of it. It set off alarms in Merlin, and he took a few steps back.

“Want some champagne?” he asked, needing a moment to think. Mordred shook his head, so Merlin walked over to the table and poured himself a generous amount and stood there, perusing the room, trying to think.

Thus far it had been a night to forget. Merlin wanted nothing more than to run to his car and leave, to get as far away from this place as he could. 

Perhaps a good night’s sleep would be exactly what the doctor ordered, and the next morning he would wake up and laugh about all of this. That was unlikely to happen, but Merlin was an eternal optimist at heart, which had to count for something, right?

He was about to return to Mordred and call it a night when he saw Uther Pendragon looking over at Mordred as if he wanted to eat him. And Merlin watched as Mordred’s eyes met those of Arthur’s father. The look they shared could only mean one thing. Well, it could mean many things, but in this instance Merlin was fairly confident that his assumptions were spot on. 

He closed his eyes, shook his head, and swallowed. He didn’t know exactly what was going on, but he knew enough. Or maybe he had the wrong end of the stick, but he didn’t think so.

He poured another glass of champagne, took it to Mordred, and steeled himself for what came next. “I want to make a toast,” he said casually, allowing the briefest of grins to flitter across his face. Mordred looked at him as if he was mental, but he took the offered flute, nonetheless. Merlin raised his glass to Mordred and mentally prepared himself.

He could be mean and tacky, but he wanted to take the high road. Of course, what he wanted and what he got were often contradictory, and his mouth often spoke the opposite of what he wished to say. He could only hope he wasn’t about to make a complete arse of himself. 

“When I came here a month ago you were the first person I met, Mordred. You took me on as your protégé and helped me make connections. I couldn’t have got to where I am today without your help. But, as all things must, this has to end. Thank you,” Merlin finished, wondering if the words had come across as droll as they’d sounded. He knew he had most assuredly sounded like a robot, but at this point, Merlin couldn’t care less. He just wanted to leave.

He was knackered; he hated confrontations and avoided them like the plague, but he would have felt worse had he left without saying anything to Mordred. Merlin knew what people thought of him—he was somewhat aloof and perhaps others thought they could pull the wool over his eyes, but Merlin wasn’t as idiotic as some people thought, and he would be damned if he was played for a fool by his boyfriend, erm, his ex-boyfriend.

Merlin watched as confusion took over Mordred’s face. Perhaps he wasn’t being fair—he should probably allow Mordred to have his say, but he felt it in his gut that this was the right decision for him.

Uther Pendragon would never allow his daughter to hand out Christmas gifts at his company’s Christmas Party. Uther was far too full of himself and thought too little of anyone else to pass up an opportunity to show others how superior to them he was.

Ha, he was so superior that he was fucking his personal assistant, and Merlin knew that it wasn’t anything to do with love. He’d heard about these things happening, and he wasn’t even opposed to them, but if Uther was shoving his cock up Mordred’s arse because he loved him, Merlin would give his few meagre possessions away and go live on a deserted island.

“Merlin?” Mordred asked, looking hurt. “What’s this about?”

Merlin leaned in so no one else could hear him. “Are you fucking your boss?” He didn’t expect an answer, but he’d had to ask.

“So what if I am. You’re fucking yours,” Mordred said, matter-of-factly.

Merlin sputtered. “I am most certainly not,” he said louder than intended, and when others near him looked his way, he pulled Mordred into the corner. “What are you on about?”

“As if you don’t know,” Mordred said as he looked over towards Arthur. “The way he looks at you every day, Merlin. He’s wanted you from day one. I knew it was only a matter of time before he seduced you; he does that, you know, seduces his assistants. So enjoy it while it lasts, yeah? And I’ll just keep enjoying his father.” The smirk on Mordred’s face made Merlin want to slap him.

“Arthur and I are not together, Mordred,” Merlin said, hurt by the accusation. He had never cheated on Mordred.

Mordred let out a derisive laugh. “I see you even gave him that medallion I admired a few weeks ago. Real classy, Merls. But I guess it makes more sense to give it to him rather than to me since it has his mother’s family crest on it. He’ll appreciate it more than I would. I know it wasn’t cheap, so I’m glad you think he’s worth it. I’d hate to think you got it for me when I’m happily fucking his father.” With that said, Mordred turned and left the room.

And just like that, Merlin was single.

Mordred had got it all wrong. Merlin hadn’t done anything wrong, yet here he stood, alone and lonely. His first Christmas away from his mother and it had gone all cold suddenly. Merlin balled his hands into fists and dug his fingernails into his palms. Why couldn’t he do anything right? He had finally started feeling comfortable in Camelot and had been looking forward to the holidays, but now he just wanted to go home, crawl in bed, and not leave again until New Years.

“Merlin?” called out a voice that Merlin really didn’t want to hear at the moment.

“Yeah?” he replied, looking at Arthur, who was standing beside him, leaning up against the window, looking nervous… and gorgeous.

Arthur, who had cost Merlin his boyfriend.

No, that wasn’t right. That wasn’t at all right. Mordred had been with Uther all night, fucking him. _That_ is what lost Merlin his boyfriend, not Arthur.

“Is this from you?” Arthur asked, holding up the medallion. Merlin swallowed and nodded. “Thank you,” Arthur said, his voice sounding far different than usual. “This was once in my mother’s family, but it has been lost for centuries. I have no idea how you came across it, but I am eternally grateful.”

Merlin didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t lie, but maybe he didn’t have to tell the truth. “I’m glad it’s back in your family. It belongs with you.” 

Merlin needed to leave. He wanted to get out of here. “I should go,” he said, on the verge of bursting out into tears, which would have been completely unacceptable, even to Gwaine.

“I am about to leave myself. May I walk you to your car?” Arthur asked, his beautiful blue eyes looking into Merlin’s. Merlin thought he could get lost in them. He again couldn’t say anything, so he nodded and the two walked in companionable silence, sharing covert looks until they reached Merlin’s car. Merlin unlocked the door and began to climb in. He should probably say something, but what was there to say?

“I’m sorry about Mordred,” Arthur said, breaking the silence.

That was the last thing Merlin expected Arthur to say. He became angry. Had Arthur known? “Did you know what was going on? Did you know he is fucking your father?”

“I walked in on them this evening, before the party,” was Arthur’s reply, but then he added, “I didn’t know before tonight, you have my word on that.” He put his hands in his pockets and looked down at the ground.

Merlin didn’t know that he believed Arthur, but he wanted to. He nodded as he got into his car. He closed the door and turned on the motor, but when he heard knocking on his window, he rolled it down.

“Thank you, for the present, Merlin. You shouldn’t have got it for me, but I’m glad you did.”

Bloody hell. Merlin briefly closed his eyes. He hadn’t planned on telling Arthur the truth about the medallion, but did he have a choice? Not really, no, but it could wait. He gave a curt nod, knowing anything he said would more than likely come out all wrong. He was already drowning under Arthur’s intense gaze. He should probably leave before he made a fool of himself.

“This is bad form, Merlin. I’m your boss and shouldn’t be doing this, I know, but do you want to go out for dinner tomorrow evening?”

What? Had Merlin heard right? Had Arthur just asked him out? Merlin very nearly couldn’t believe it, and from the look on Arthur’s face, he probably couldn't either. It had all been said quickly, as one would do when circumventing nerves. Merlin know all too well about that tactic.

As he processed what Arthur had asked him, he thought how things had a funny way of working out in the end. He had dreaded moving to Camelot and leaving his mother, yet, as she’d predicted, he had made friends and even found himself a boyfriend. No, he and Mordred hadn’t worked out, but it was down to him that in less than twenty hours, Merlin and Arthur would be going out to dinner. It was a strange turn of events, but his mother had told him long ago that things always worked out for the best. Merlin hadn’t believed his mother all those years ago, but he couldn’t wait to get to his flat, call her, and tell her that he couldn’t wait to see her in a few days and tell her all about his new friends. And Arthur.

Merlin let out a chuckle. At the beginning of the day, had anyone told him he’d be going out the following day with Arthur Pendragon, he would have probably scrunched up his nose at the thought. But then he hadn’t known anything that mattered about his boss. Now, he still didn’t know much, but he knew enough to want to learn more.

Arthur sighed and began to turn around. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you that; I apologise.” He sounded and looked sad.

“Erm, sorry,” Merlin said, panicked, attempting to smile and cover up his embarrassment. He hoped he hadn’t already mucked up his chances to get to know Arthur better. “Yeah, that’d be great. I’d like that, Arthur.”

After exchanging numbers, Merlin was on his way home, somewhat sad that Arthur hadn’t asked him to go somewhere to talk. Going back to his flat would be quiet and sad, but at least Merlin had something to look forward to.

His mobile beeped and Merlin looked to his left, thinking it might be Arthur.

It wasn’t.

 

 **Prince Charming… aka Gwaine** : _Percival tells me you and Arthur left together after you broke up with Mordred. What happened? And what in the hell did you give Arthur? Elena hopes you draw her name next year. Call me in the morning. We are all waiting to hear all about your and Arthur’s after party. I want to know if he fucks you as good with his dick as he does with his eyes._

 

Merlin blushed as he laughed. There was no way he was telling Gwaine or anyone else anything about how good Arthur kissed, fucked, or did anything else—not that there was anything to tell at the moment—but if things worked out the way Merlin hoped, he wouldn’t have to say a word. 

He had been told since he was a child that he wore his emotions on his sleeve.

Well, if that was the case, he would let his sleeves do the talking for him.


End file.
